


Innerstuck

by koinz88



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abandonment, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Ancestors, Anorexia, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abandonment, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/F, F/M, Fanart, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, GamTav - Freeform, Gamzee is not crazy, Homestuck - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Juggalo, Lusus, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, PB&J, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Pictures, Schizophrenia, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Trolls, Xenophobia, gamkar - Freeform, innerstuck, koinz88, mentalstuck, pantskat, sobriety is not insanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:46:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koinz88/pseuds/koinz88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our favorite stoner clown deals winds up in two different mental hospitals, starts treatment for his illnesses, and makes some new friends. He also will soon realize that he has to deal with things he long sought to leave repressed. Mostly focused on Gamzee, but other main characters are Tavros, Karkat, Vriska, and Equius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Trip to the Ward

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like this, I've been sitting on this idea for a long time and now it's finally published! I was inspired by awesome fics like “Just Saying Gets Better” by ribsgrowback and Brainbent. I'll be including fanart and sometimes links to music I listen to while writing. Only the first part of this chapter is in second POV.

You snap to attention, as if just awakened from a trance. It feels as if there was a fog over your mind. As the fog dissipates like the slowly parting clouds of a mist, you try to make sense of your surroundings. You are in an apartment, the living room. There is a large television and a bunch of couches that look like they haven’t been cleaned since they were bought. Empty bottles of Faygo and old pizza boxes litter the floor. The curtains are drawn, and weed smoke hangs in the air. You recall that this is the apartment in a lowerclass highblood complex that you shared with your friends. However, you are startled by what looks like furniture knocked over throughout the room. That is when you rotate your body as you gaze in every direction with steadily increasing horror.

You squint through the dim lighting. There are four unconscious bodies lying about the room. Purple blood is splattered everywhere. You stumble up to one of the bodies, nervously assessing the damage. Dark bruises, purplish, all over the faces. There are defensive wounds on the arms with more than a few talon-like scratches. You reach over in a daze to poke one of the bodies to check if they’re still alive, when you find the culprit of this dastardly crime. Your claws are practically dripping with blood. Hair and blood under your nails. Knuckles are all busted to hell. At the same time of your realization, three fresh, raw lines across your face seem to reverberate in pain. You lift a few fingers to your face and trace the lines. The wound probably came from one of their claws. Next to the troll, you also see one of your deuce clubs left abandoned, blood-speckled and likely forsaken in favor of your fists. You walk over and slowly pick it up with one hand, the other clasping over your mouth in horror.

[](http://imgur.com/JssMCdQ)

What have you done?

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you have just mercilessly beaten up the members of your small gang. Yes…your gang. The memories are coming back to you now. Your mind is sharpening up despite the temple-pounding headache. You raise your hands to your face in horror. You are starting to remember- that you just beat up your best bros in the world. You weren’t an official member of their gang, but they let you hang around them anyway, let you play with them, eat with them. And then you go and do…this? 

Why did this happen? 

You start to scream, in anguish as if you just lost a family member (or in this case, several). That’s when you hear a presence shift. You turn around quickly, like a cornered barkbeast that’s boxed in dead ended alleyway.

In a corner of the wrecked apartment, there is a troll girl staring at you with eyes as wide, frightened eyes. Yellowblooded by the look of the double sets of horns, she’s only wearing undergarments. She stares at you unsteadily, as if you were a rainbowdrinker. You might as well be one, with all of the purple blood splattered all over you.

As you try to grind your increasingly panicked thoughts to a halt, you absentmindedly start walking towards the girl. The yellowblood shrinks back, a small shriek catching in her throat. Your arms unconsciously spread open, palms angled upwards, as if you’re trying to explain to this stranger that this wasn’t what it appeared to be. You didn’t mean it. Your eyes are pleading. She isn’t buying it. Trembling, she edges closer to the corner, drawing her knees to her chest. 

You hear distant sirens, and you stop your advance. You figure someone must have called the cops over what must have been a clusterfuck of screams and heavy objects being knocked over. The girl looks like she’ll have a heart attack if you take one more step closer, so you sit cross-legged in the center of the room. You sit, and try to think. 

The sirens are getting closer. 

Suddenly, a voice surfaces to your mind, through the worsening headache. 

They deserved it, it starts. They were going to abandon you. They were going to leave you all alone. You hate being alone. You grimace at the thought. This didn’t feel right. Or justified. This shouldn’t have happened. You didn’t want this to happen. 

They deserved it. You didn’t do anything wrong, it continued to whisper. You groan, placing your palms over your ears, as if that would stop the voices from inside your head. The ones that have been there for years now. 

The sirens are getting louder.

It is here when another voice surfaces. This one is much lower pitched, and it booms the messages you’ve always been told. 

You’re worthless! Can’t you get anything right? This throws your thoughts into a state of confusion as you try to remember. What was it that you were supposed to do? Oh, that’s right. All you had to do was pail that lowblood and your gang would have accepted you. Accept you completely. But you just couldn’t do it. Why can’t you act like a proper highblood? Gamzee scowls as that familiar voice whispering angrily in his ears. Then, there is a third, more scathing voice, and a mix of the first two. “No wonder your dad didn’t want you! Even the damn lusus left!” 

That was too much. That struck you like a ton of bricks where it hurt the most. 

“Graaaaaghh!” you yell in frustration, fingers bunching up your hair.

The sirens were very close, now. Tires could be heard screeching outside as they entered the complex’s parking lot outside the ground floor apartment.

You weren’t paying them any mind. The voices circle in your head, raging back and forth like ferocious gale winds. It was too much. Your eyes fly open, but seeing the unconscious, bloody trolls only heightens your panic. The bodies around you suddenly feel arranged like the hands of a clock, the hands all accusingly pointing to you. Everything sends your mind into a tailspin. Like a flood, all of the things you had always blotted out with sopor came flooding in, busting down the levies of your emotions. Desperately trying to stop the tidal wave of conflicting thoughts and voices, you don’t notice the police bust in through the door.

 

The next thing Gamzee remembers is waking up in a small room. Though rather than waking, it feels more like stirring while submerged under swamp water. His mind feels sluggish, as if the very act of thinking is through sloughing waist deep through mud. It’s not the comfortable malaise of sopor, but the feeling of being so sedated that you have very little control over your body. He tries to lift himself up, but nothing seems to respond well. He finds his body is propped up on a chair. 

His eyelids flutter open, but even the room’s dim lighting feels almost blinding right now. He squints, and in his hazy vision are two figures. They’re likely trolls judging by the solid forms of orange and yellow on top of their heads. One troll is on the other side of what looks like a large brown desk. They seem to be gesturing towards someone sitting next to him. He wants to turn to see who it is, but whatever they got him on makes even that hard. Due to the bad lighting in the room, the troll is also partially obscured in the shadows. From what he can see, the troll next to him appears to be very large. Gamzee is considered tall at six feet despite being only seventeen, but that guy is easily nine feet tall! When the troll stands, he practically towers over Gamzee. He is waving his hands around. Even Gamzee can make out gestures of a clenched fist, and an index finger being jabbed in the direction of the other troll. He tries to catch snippets of what the apparently agitated troll is saying.

“…sir, I’m sorry, but he’ll need to be put in a mental hospital…”

“What are you saying, tealblood? ….Why am I even dealing with this…?”

“It’s either the psychiatric ward or prison…”

“Psychiatric Ward? WHAT PROPOGANDA IS THAT? I swear, that sounds like another tactic humans on this planet to weaken trolls. And a descendant of mine… ISN’T WEAK!”

[](http://imgur.com/1zclW7T)

At that sentence, Gamzee’s eyes widened as much as they could. Descendant…was this…?  
Gamzee wants to reach over and touch the large troll, wants him to notice that he’s awake. Despite being in the zombie-like state, Gamzee managed to finally move a hand towards the excited troll. His teeth grits as he tries to concentrate on doing this.

He reaches towards his father, who he hasn’t seen in ten years. 

“He needs serious help…either that or prison, which will cause even more scrutiny to you…”

His father continues his aggrieved shouting, but the teal’s arguments appear to start wearing him down after a while. Eventually, both trolls go silent. They have some sort of stare down, and if the teal is intimidated by the humongous troll, they’re not showing it. 

“Sigh…well HURRY UP. What forms do I need to fill out?”

The large troll, who was practically standing in his rage, is now sitting with slumped shoulders. He turns around slowly, and there is when he locks eyes with Gamzee’s. Shifting his body to face his son, his eyes go slowly from the hand reaching towards him to his face. His father’s eyes narrow, glaring with a fearsome intensity. Gamzee lowers his hand, a sudden fear of bothering him overcoming his desire to touch him after all these years. His father watches him for a moment. Then, his shoulders relax. His eyes turn from squinting with furrowed brows to expressionless, the eyes growing distant. He suddenly grabs one of Gamzee’s skinny arms, eyeing the track marks along them silently. Then he drops his arms and looks away. 

“Still such a fucking disappointment…”

His father turns his body away and leans towards the desk, and there is the sound of rustling papers.

Gamzee’s heart sinks. His eyes tear up a bit as he stares at his father’s back. A disappointment. He may be heavily sedated, but he can’t help but be overcome by thoughts of despair. All he can think of is how much of a letdown he is, sitting all up in a chair all doped up in some random room, apparently about to be sent off somewhere. He hopes he gets sent far away. He doesn’t deserve to stay with his father. 

As he waits to drift back off into sleep again, he remembers a few events of the apartment. He remembers four police officers tackling him and putting him in cuffs. Probably blue bloods judging by their size, the big ones usually assigned to lower class neighborhoods with larger and stronger highblood trolls. Gamzee remembered his arms were flailing all over, managing to sock an officer or two in the face. He put up a good struggle. Did it really require four of those big motherfuckers, he thought to himself. Probably. After seeing the state of that apartment, they probably weren’t taking any chances. He took out four purplebloods on his own, after all. After this, he began to get drowsy again.

The next few hours went by with nothing but the sound of rustling papers and hushed voices.


	2. Getting Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee meets with a psychiatrist, experiences various reactions to various medications, and has a memory he'd rather forget.

Gamzee finds himself against a wall off to the far side in a psychiatric ward’s common room. He doesn’t really remember arriving, but notices he’s in a light blue, bland hospital shirt and pants. He glances around frantically, scratching his arms every so often. Or rather, scratching his beige cloth gauntlets. He faintly remembers someone telling him that patients with visible scars and track marks have to cover them up. He stares at the other patients. 

Most are wearing a colored assortment of the same plain clothes. He mostly sees trolls, but there are a few humans mixed in for good measure. Some are watching the common area TV. Some older patients are playing cards off to the side. A troll in a wheelchair is reading a book. While he is a bit apprehensive of being in this strange, new place, it’s definitely not what he thought it would be like. He remembers the jokes his gang would say about places like this. That everyone runs around batshit crazy, beating down security. Even so, he didn’t really like interacting with anyone for now. _You throw a motherfucker in some strange place, you can’t be mad at him for getting his alone on for a bit,_ he thought. Also, while he wasn’t as heavily sedated as before, he was still a bit now.

A nurse visited him half an hour ago and told him that he will be seeing a psychiatrist today. From what he gleaned from her, supposedly, he had been through intake already. He wondered if that was the room he saw his dad in. 

Dad…

He wondered if he would ever visit him. Gamzee pulled his knees close to his chest. He didn’t know how long he would be here. He wondered if his dad would actually even come back.

His heart starts pumping a bit faster. Realizing he’s starting to panic a little, he tries to focus on watching the other patients. After a few moments, he calms a bit.

It really does feel like watching a movie. He doesn’t really feel like he’s there with everyone else. Then slowly, everyone becomes smaller and recedes slightly into the distance. Things that are closer to the edge of his vision warp inwardly in a circular motion. The common area distorts into a fish eye lens view. Gamzee feels like a fish looking out into the room from a tiny fishbowl. 

Gamzee blinks a few times, but scene doesn’t change. He looks on in awe as the lens view becomes more pronounced, and some of the patients start floating in midair. One skinny troll spreads their arms in a waving motion as if they’re swimming. He holds a hand up in front of him, and it has shrunk to half its size.

“Motherfucking miracles…,” he drawls.

Then suddenly, a hand pats him on the shoulder. He nearly jumps out of his skin when a troll with white nurse scrub bends down in front of him. When she bends down, her head appears gigantic in his distorted view.

“The psychiatrist is ready for you, “she informs him. Gamzee stares at her as she motions for him to follow with a wave of a hand. He nods, or at least he thinks he nodded. It’s hard to tell since he still feels like he’s in a fishbowl. He stands and shuffles behind her.

\--

“Gamzee, do you hear voices? Do you see hallucinations?”

“Yeah, I motherfucking do.” 

Gamzee was in the psychiatrist’s private office. He sat on the other side of a desk from the older troll in a manner very similar to the intake room. This time, he was the one giving answers. The evaluating psychiatrist was a blocky horned oliveblood with thick rimmed black glasses. He gazes at Gamzee with a large notepad for scribbling the boy’s responses. 

“How long have you heard them?”

“Since I was like…twelve years old?”

“What do they tell you?”

Gamzee squirmed in his seat. He really wasn’t up for a round of questioning, nor in the greatest mood. _Might as well,_ he thought. _Not like I got anywhere to go if I refuse._ Whether it was sopor or what he was on now, he always found it hard to really think clearly. He mustered up some thinking as best as he could, and spoke slowly but steadily. 

“Well, one motherfucker in my head tells me I’m a highblood and should be all about doing things deserving of my caste. That I should all up and kill everyone I see that’s lower than me...I don’t know, I don’t really care about that blood shit. The other one tells me that I’m useless, good for nothing, can’t think my way out of a paper bag, that I ain't no one’s damn miracle, stupid, a damn disappointment.” Gamzee’s reply had started off slow and hesitating but turned into rapid fire shouting, and he was practically growling as he enunciated every syllable of that last word. 

The psychiatrist’s expression remains even except for his eyebrows lifting slightly. He raises a hand to keep Gamzee from continuing.

“Slow there, son. It’s going to be alright.”

Gamzee averts his eyes. He didn’t mean to shout. What was wrong with his thinkpan? _Damn, I really want some sopor right about now,_ he thought, but there was none available. He really wanted that rather than whatever the hell he was on right now. It was dampening his emotions, but he still found his mood to be shitty even if he couldn’t get excited easily. Being made to talk about things like this wasn’t making anything easier. After a moment of silence, the older troll urged Gamzee to continue with a faint nod.

“My dad was never around…probably hates my ass. Back when he used to actually be around, he would always tell me I embarrass him, not fitting to be his descendant. So sometimes I hear his deep bass voice in my pan, telling me what he really thinks about me.” Gamzee raises a long, bony finger to the side of his head. “He ain’t hardly around, but he stays close in a way, huh?” Gamzee chuckles at the joke, a low guttural noise that barely sounds like laughing at all.

[](http://imgur.com/vdFyr6t)

“I see. That voice would be what is known as a parental introject. Sometimes they’re known as scripts when the voices say the same exact messages, like a recording, “the psychiatrist explained.  
“So there are different voices. Do you ever feel like there are different personalities in your body, just like there are different voices?”

“No, nothing like that as far as I know. Just voices. Sometimes I feel like I'm disconnected from my own body, now that shit’s a trip.”

“Ah, is that so?”

The psychiatrist scribbles something on his notepad before looking up again.

“Do you feel like a robot or in a dreamlike state?” he asks.

“Yeah, sometimes. Or like my body’s somewhere submerged in water.”

Gamzee starts twiddling his thumbs under the desk and glances nervously around the room. He’s mentioned the voices he hears and the random things he’s seen to his gang before, but they’d usually just laugh him off. He’s never talked with anyone about this dream state in particular, so he starts feeling a little anxious. He suddenly feels a pressing need to change the subject. “Say, how long have I been here anyway?”

“About two days, Gamzee.”

“Oh. Feels like I’ve already been up in here for weeks now. Sorry, I can be a little out of it. Sometimes I feel like I'm not even in my own body.”

“I see. Your perception of time seems abnormal.” The psychiatrist replies, seeming to zero in on that statement. “How long does that dreamlike state last? Does it happen often?”

_Aw shit, he ain’t letting up,_ Gamzee thinks. After a minute, he decides to just give in. “Usually it’ll happen for a few minutes, though it can go on even longer than that, maybe half an hour. It happens pretty often when I'm at school, at least once a day. Not so much when I'm by myself at home, though. Sometimes, even if I'm just getting my think on too much, it’ll happen.”

“Thinking too much?”

“Yeah, I mean, sometimes when I zone out and don't pay attention much to nothing around me, you know?”

“How do feel during these experiences, Gamzee?”

“It's… fucking scary,” Gamzee says while staring at his hands below the desk. “I feel like I'll lose myself, like I'll permanently drift off to the cosmos or some shit. Things will lose their color, become two-dimensional. Real trippy. I know I hear voices and see things no one else does, but I swear this is different. It feels like one of those really realistic dreams you get, the ones where you feel like you’re actually there interacting with shit.”

“Lucid dreams.”

“Yeah that, but I’ll be awake and it'll happen! Like I'll be talking to people or in a group, and next thing I know, I'm on motherfucking autopilot.” 

The older troll is circling and slashing off things with his pencil on his notepad, like he's narrowing things down. 

Gamzee cuts eye contact with the psychiatrist and bows his head with a wan, self-deprecating smile. “You get me now, huh? Well, that’s why I love sopor. It’s a fucking miracle. I bake that shit into pies. I don’t have to deal with all that. You feel me, brother?”

The psychiatrist stops scribbling on his pad and looks up quickly at that admission. His expression is still even, however.

“Sopor addiction. I know there are track marks on your arms.”

“Sometimes I would shoot some lighter liquid version up in my veins when I did things together with the boys, but I mostly ate it baked…”

“We’ll have to do a drug detox program alongside the treatment for your conditions.”

Gamzee winced, his brows furrowing. He didn’t like the sound of being put off sopor. He used it every day. What would he do without it? He fidgets again, staring at his feet, he asks, “So, how long will I be here?”

“Until we can get your condition more stabilized with a suitable medication. Due to the circumstances you entered in, you were admitted involuntarily, and being a minor, you must stay for at least 31 days,” the psychiatrist responds. 

The psychiatrist asks several more questions, and then concludes the meeting with his diagnosis. 

The older troll pushed up his glasses with two fingers and held his notepad straight in front of his chest. He reads off Gamzee’s case file. “Gamzee Makara. Age 17. Institutionalized after at 4:32 p.m. on Tuesday, March 17. The patient was admitted after beating four members of his gang unconscious. Diagnosis is Schizophrenia and Depersonalization Disorder. You have been admitted to Scrate Center, a psychiatric ward, under involuntary admittance to help treat your illnesses. Here, I’ll go over your new schedule with you.”

The psychiatrist hands Gamzee a piece of paper. Gamzee pauses, then reaches over to take it.

“You will begin recovery immediately and start off on what we call Section 1 for the first week-no games or TV privileges. You must always be accompanied by a staff member outside, to the bathroom, and to the cafeteria. You will have a set schedule daily.”

The psychiatrist then begins rattling off Gamzee’s schedule. Gamzee frowned as he glanced at the paper, then back at the older troll. 

“Follow the times on the sheet closely. Your schedule will include having your blood pressure and weight recorded, breakfast, general therapy, snack, chemical dependency therapy, lunch, room time, art therapy, and dinner.”

The boy was so startled that he was barely listening to the psychiatrist as he eyed the sheet. Wake up at eight in the morning every day? Do all this other shit at set times? It sounded exhausting already.

It was all a bit daunting, considering he had never had much of a schedule. He’d get up around noon if he decided he didn’t feel like going to school, bake himself a sopor pie, draw for a little bit. Maybe watch one of his old cartoon VHS Tapes. Take a nap on the floor. Surf his husktop. Watch juggalo videos. His dad was hardly ever around, but he did leave some things around for him. His head throbs a bit as the psychiatrist prattles on. He’d rather be doing any of that than being here right now.

\--

This was only the beginning of what would become a very long, arduous process. The psychiatrist had mentioned that alongside treating Gamzee’s conditions, he would also be detoxed off of spoor. His recuperacoon’s sopor dosage would be lowered considerably, though gradated so that the withdrawal wouldn't be so intense. Gamzee was afraid of this process. He was afraid of going off what felt like a lifeline for so long. Wouldn't he hurt more people? If the medication didn't stop the voices, what would he do? He would soon find out. 

The medication given to him that first week was named Koquil. A common medication for schizophrenia, its only side effect was nightmares. A doctor assigned to him informed him about the side effect but assured him that most patients don't experience it. 

The Koquil heavily sedated him for the most part, and while it wasn’t sopor, it kept out the voices and unwanted thoughts, so he welcomed it. What the doctor hadn’t mentioned to him was that he was still deemed a violent risk considering how he ended up in the ward, so his medication dosage was high for a new patient. He didn’t talk much to any other patients or participate in any group therapy because he was far too doped up to. He would mostly sit in the common area, sitting in a corner by himself, watching the other patients with a lopsided grin on his face. 

The bliss was only temporary, however. He soon started to feel the subtle but present feeling of the sopor lowering in dosage. His recuperacoon was already set at a 50% sopor mix from the first day, but the Koquil seemed strong enough to offset such a low amount. It didn’t feel too jarring on his body. Soon, there were less and less days of dreamless, blissful sleep. Here and there, a nightmare started to slip through the cracks. He also began to have what trolls call daymares and what humans call hallucinations. At first, they were fairly harmless, like tiny hoofbeasts the size of marbles bounding around. By the end of that first week, they had turned downright terrifying. It turned out that Koquil’s major side effect, nightmares, was in effect and starting to take its toll.

He could deal with the occasional daymare, but the nightmares were where the real trials began. 

And they turned out to be the worst kind of nightmares Gamzee would ever have. His first night on them, he dreamt he was being chased by gigantic herds of barkbeasts. He would get trampled by them, smashed into pieces. The next night, a musclebeast as tall as a skyscraper picked up Gamzee’s tiny body, opened its huge mouth, and popped the troll onto its tongue. Gamzee woke up in a cold sweat just before the mouth full of blunt yellow teeth clamped down on him. He woke up screaming, claws clasped over his eyes. A patrolling staffer heard the noise and ran into his room and calmed him down. The following day, he met with his assigned doctor. 

“Hey doc, I know this recovery is about miracles and such, but I feel like that Koquil stuff is messing with my head too much. These nightmares are getting worse…Never felt anything like this in my life,” Gamzee drawled, his hand ruffling through his hair. He rubbed his eyes, which had slight bags under them. He often couldn’t go back to sleep for hours after the terrible nightmares, and it didn’t help that he had to still get up at eight each morning. The lack of sleep was also making his episodes of depersonalization more frequent due to the stress.

The doctor sat with his hands on his desk, his fingers crossing over one another. 

“These nightmares are most likely due to the sopor’s lowered dosage. Like I said before, the side effect doesn’t occur as often. Give your body time to adjust.”

Gamzee frowned at the doctor’s dismissal. He’s had nightmares before and these dreams feel too lucid, much more real than anything he ever experienced. Gamzee had his doubts, but he understood that this could also be the detox working its miracles. After all, this is the first since he was nine years old that he’s taken anything lower than a full dosage of sopor. He nodded and left the doctor’s office. 

\--

Gamzee found himself in a foggy swamp, shin-deep in water. The night was nearly pitch black as the moon was mostly obscured behind clouds. Gamzee twisted his body around as he peered through the darkness, but there was nothing but grasses and black water for miles in every direction. It was eerily silent. 

“What the motherfuck is this shit?” he said. 

With a slight shrug, he decided to start walking in hopes of finding a way out. He trudged through the icky swamp water, but it was too thick to move through quickly. Then he heard something sloshing through the water. He froze. The sloshing continued, and he looked into the water to see ripples slowly forming on the surface. The ripples started off about five feet away, ten slowly enclosed on Gamzee. The boy’s eyes grew wide, and he turned to get away from whatever was in the water. But the water suddenly felt even thicker than before. He tried taking a step, but it felt like the water was sucking him in. He felt like he was stuck in quicksand. He turned his body to see the rippling water very close now, the sloshing getting louder. Gamzee looked down, and saw a large, bumpy tentacle rising out of the water. He tried to scream, but the tentacle grabbed him by a foot and jerked him under the water. The swamp water around Gamzee lashed high in the air as the boy went under the surface. 

Gamzee was dragged deep underwater, his cheeks puffing as he tried to hold his breath. It was pitch black under the surface. “What the hell is happening,’ he thought to himself. Then, he realizes a large, jagged shape was beginning to materialize. His eyes felt like they would bulge out of his head. Materializing underneath the surface was the form of a gigantic creature. The form became more apparent as hundreds of eyeballs opened slowly. Their brightness lit up parts of the creature’s body. Those jagged edges turned out to be thousands of tentacles. Gamzee gasped before putting both hands over his mouth as air bubbles escaped. The creature still had a tentacle around Gamzee’s leg, and was dragging the boy toward a gaping, humongous hole. The creature’s mouth, lined in a myriad of sharp white teeth--

 

That night’s nightmare had him dashing down the hall, screaming his head off like a madman. After seeing Gamzee fling open his room door and run out, a patrolling security staffer bolted after him, thinking he was trying to escape. He said something quickly over a radio, and soon three more staffers were after the boy. 

Terrified down to the point where only instinct took over, he found himself near the ward’s entrance despite barely remembering seeing it upon arrival. The entrance door was locked behind another separate room with locked glass doors, so behind the glass is where the staffers finally cornered to him. Gamzee was frantic, and flipped tables at the staffers as if he they were the horrorterrors themselves. The staffers decided then that they were done with peaceful coaxing to calm Gamzee down. 

The next thing he remembers, he was on a bed in a padded isolation room, all four limbs held down by four security trolls. The gangly boy struggled and struggled, but to no avail. Then, he heard footsteps, and craned his neck as best as he could. A nurse walked into the room. A troll woman with white gloves and what appeared to be a very thick, long needle. Gamzee’s panicked eyes grew wide as he eyed the nurse coming close to him. He started struggling even harder than before, his body thrashing like a fish away from the syringe. The nurse held out an outstretched palm. She was telling the staffers holding him down to keep him still, but to Gamzee, the palm looked menacing as it came closer and closer. 

[](http://imgur.com/lhxKac6)

The four trolls kept their grip on him despite the increasing difficulty in holding down the powerful purpleblood. Instinct kicked in, and it told Gamzee that the nurse was about to hurt him. 

The needle drew closer.

If he could have stopped then and think rationally, maybe he’d realize that these people weren’t there to hurt him. Only to help. But in that moment, he didn’t see it that way. For some reason, the threat of a forced injection made him fight back harder, made him think he was in danger.

He feels a strange but familiar spark inside his horns. In the past, he felt it when his senses start getting overloaded, like now. Gamzee suddenly sees a dim, red cloud of energy. The nurse and the other staffers don’t seem to notice it. He can’t quite remember what that red cloud is at the moment, but incidentally, the cloud starts spiraling toward the nurse. _Am I…controlling that?_ He wonders. Unfortunately for him, the nurse takes advantage of Gamzee’s stilled body as he tried to focus the red energy on her.

He felt his pants and underwear lowered, then a damp swab on his bare bottom. He barely had any time to process what was going on before the nurse shot a tranquilizing injection into his bottom. Gamzee let out a small shriek. The medication began working only a few minutes later. At first, Gamzee could only hear his on frenzied breathing in his ears, but then he slowly began drifting out of consciousness a few minutes later. 

After learning of this episode, the doctor tried a new medication. 

A week passed as Gamzee went through another round of heavy sedation as his medications were switched. The next medication, Donatrex, gave him no nightmares. However, Gamzee noticed something was wrong right away. The medication helped his voices but made him very bored. Bored was the only word he had for it. He didn’t feel like doing anything, didn’t feel like talking to anyone. He only said one word answers or nothing at all during his general therapy sessions. In art therapy, he only felt like drawing his Capricorn symbol over and over without speaking. 

This had the effect of increasing his out of body experiences two-fold. He felt like he was in a constant dream-like state, whereas it used to only happen occasionally. He began feeling incredibly anxious, like he would lose himself completely. He felt like he would simply vanish and die. The panic attacks had started in earnest.

He would steal pills off the nurse trays during the morning medication stops. The nurses often had to chase him around for the other patients’ stolen pills in his hand. Sometimes, one moment he would be sitting in the common area alone as always, bothering no one and seeming at peace. The next moment he’d start to bang his head against a wall. 

Most patients have risen to Section 2 for more privileges after the first week, but for causing so many disturbances, he stayed on Section 1. He felt out of control of his situation… he actually felt like he was getting worse. Out of touch with reality more than ever. 

One day while ignoring the bustle of the common room, his mind started to wonder. He watched the other patients, wondering about the things they were talking about. He had no desire to go walk over and talk to anyone, though. No one’s really approached him. Maybe they have, and he didn’t notice. 

It felt lonely.

“Damn, I wish I had a moirail,” he said to himself as he sat in a corner of the common area. A small smile spread on his face. He knew he always failed in the quadrant department. Not too many he could call friends. That’s why he was so happy to be around his boys. 

His boys. His eyes narrowed at that thought. With a sigh, he tilted his head back against the wall. Then, his mind drifted to what got him here in the first place.

\--

On the planet Sarus, trolls, humans, and carapaces lived together. Most of the old Alternian beliefs and customs were abandoned in favor of living in peace with the other races. The troll blood races all live with each other, whether they’re high, low, or midbloods. However, many trolls still subscribe to the old Alternian hemospectrum. Unfortunately, it’s not just the older, more conservative trolls. 

Gamzee’s gang were all purplebloods, and who lived in a poorer neighborhood of the city, Wavecrest. They were all proud paint wearers, and all stuck headfast to their version of the old juggalo traditions. They often hung out at the gang’s main crib, a shabby ground-floor apartment one of the troll’s parents paid for. Gamzee was simply glad to finally have somewhere he could fit in, someone he could call a family and hang with. When Gamzee used to go to school regularly- he was literally a class clown. He liked to make others laugh and feel comfortable, even if it was at his expense. He often brought his horns and clubs to school with him. At the start of the new school year, four purplebloods took a liking to him. He doesn’t really remember why, just that he made them laugh. Gamzee later found out they styled themselves as a minor drug gang, but he wasn’t officially a member of their gang activities. For the first time in his life, he was invited to someone else’s hive, and enjoyed playing Cod of Duty and other games with his brothers. They’d all slam the wicked elixir all night long. Sometimes Gamzee would just stay in the kitchen, whipping up pies for himself and his brothers. He’d bring them to the sofa, and would be delighted as they would reach over and grab a piece, controllers in their other hands. They seemed grateful. Not like anyone of them knew how to cook like that, as told by the countless Styrofoam food containers and pizza boxes littering the place.

His gang would always stalk around the high school, picking on and laughing at the lowbloods. Gamzee always felt uncomfortable about this. He really didn’t get all of the blood shit. He was down with juggalo culture, but even he had his own idea of what that should be. He believed in his own, more egalitarian form of the Mirthful Messiah religion, and sometimes his friends would rib him for it. His belief tickled them. It made no sense to them as to why he’d interpret a religion that originally espouses the death of lowbloods in that way. He’d never join in with the lowblood teasing, but didn’t speak out too much in fear of losing his only friends. 

One day, things took a turn for the worse. He made his way over to his bros’ hive with a favorite deuce club slung over his shoulder. He opened the door to his clown brothers laughing veraciously. Grinning at what sounded like a good time, he stepped through the door hopefully. Perhaps they had found a new game they really enjoyed or something. He stopped cold, however. One of his brethren, Keavus, the tallest and de facto leader of their small group, said to Gamzee, “Hey brother, we’re about to have some real fun up in this bitch. “ He smiled, his face devoid of the clown paint. His mouth shifted around blunt in his mouth, the smell of weed quickly overtaking Gamzee’s nose. 

“Oh yeah? What you got?” Gamzee asked, stepping over the door threshold. Gamzee then froze. 

Gamzee saw two of his brothers with a troll girl on the sofa, likely yellowblooded by the two sets of horns on her head. Gamzee tilted his head in confusion. _That was strange._ Usually, his boys only bring their purple or blueblooded ladies over, and they usually head to the backroom when they do. Gamzee craned his neck in the doorway, trying to take a closer look at the girl. She looked roughed up, with one blackened eye and honeyed bruises about her body. Two of his brothers were on either side of her, chuckling as they tried to pull her clothes off. One thin and lanky troll was behind her, her body situated in his lap as he was planting rough kisses along her neck and face. His unibrow was furrowed as he concentrated on pawing at her collared shirt, trying to wrestle it off. The other, a heavyset guy named Xonraz, was slowly wrenching off her skirt, a low, throaty laugh sounding off. “C’mon, you lowblooded bitch!” he snarled through a wide grin, yanking harder on her shirt. Another one of his crew was sitting in a chair off to the side, watching the whole thing with a toothy smile.

Gamzee watched the scene with his mouth agape. It took a few moments to recollect himself before turning skittishly to Kaevus. “W-what in Mirth is going on here, bro?” he asked. He was standing still in the door’s opening in horror, so Keavus closed the door behind him and ushered him in with a hand to Gamzee’s back.

Kaevus didn’t answer immediately, preferring to take a long drag of his blunt first. “We just having ourselves a little fun with a lowblood, is all. You know. Just taking hat’s rightfully ours.” His mouth spread into a satisfied smirk with that last word. 

Gamzee turned back to the scene, becoming increasingly panicked. Xonraz has her skirt off now and is starting to move on top of her, grinding his hips against her. Gamzee’s eyes darted back from the two trolls to Kaevus’ content face. _What should I do? This shouldn’t be happening. This ain’t right!_ He thought.

“H-hey, cut this shit out…”he begins weakly. There is no response from the two trolls attacking the girl, so he repeats it a bit louder. “C’mon guys, let’s play some games or something. We ain’t gotta do nothing like this.” 

With this, the smile on Kaevus’ face suddenly disappears as he stares hard at Gamzee. “Hey” he barks in a curt, deep voice, and the two purples on the couch suddenly stops moving. The troll on top of the girl looks up in impatience, “What motherfucking gives?”

Kaevus shoves Gamzee in the middle of the room and snarls, “Looks like this motherfucker here has a problem with our little Carnival going on here. Well? Speak up motherfucker!”

Gamzee’s mind starts racing as his two brothers get off of the couch and start walking towards him. _What should I do? Dammit, I need some sopor._ He had all these plans to start cooking up some as soon as he got to his bros’ hive. Enjoy it with some Faygo, chill on the couch. But it looks like that plan’s all but gone to shit. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking. We got this motherfucker all up and tagging around with us all the time. I think it’s time for him to show us if he’s a real clown up in this bitch. Let’s make this shit official, feel me?” Kaevus said, his crooked smile looking sinister.

_Fuck, this is bad,_ Gamzee thought. _I don’t want this, why is this happening? I just want everything to be okay again!_ Faced with a situation rapidly getting out of control, his mind also kept aching for sopor, as if that alone would reverse time.

Methil, the purple who had been sitting down, seems annoyed at the interference. However, he gets up and walks over to the horrified Capricorn, clapping Gamzee on the back with an impish grin. 

“You know, Gamzee ain’t never brought one of his own broads here, how about we let him have this one first. Show us what you’re made of.”

In contrast to his seemingly encouraging words, Methil pushes him roughly towards the girl on the couch. His deuce club drops out of his hand in the sudden motion. He loses his balance and falls on top of her, his breath catching as he looks at her. She is staring back at him with pleading eyes, her breathing ragged, chest heaving up in down in panic. Her eyes dart between Gamzee and the other four big purplebloods. Gamzee freezes, unable to move. A voice starts to surface in his mind, and the ache for sopor becomes even more gouging. The voice he’s always used sopor to block out.  
“Think about this. Don’t lose your brothers over some pissblood.” Then it rumbles into the familiar lower pitched, booming voice. This is your hemoright! Act like a proper purpleblood!” 

“N-no…,”Gamzee whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. Then another voice surfaces, this one playing like a broken record he’s heard since he was little. _You’re worthless. They’re going to leave your ass, just like your lusus did. They don’t want to be bothered with you, just like your dad._

_You’ll always be alone._

The voices started storming about in his head. Gamzee turned from the yellowblood and held his head in his hands.

Then, he felt a hand grasp his hair from behind him, and tilt his head back. He finds himself looking at Kaevus cold, purple eyes. 

“What you waiting for? Go ahead and pail her. If you ain’t up for it, well, you can just get the hell out. Don’t ever come back, and don’t even think about hanging around us again. We’re real motherfucking clowns and don’t need some green motherfucker tagging along with us. You can stay with the rest of the lowbloods if you like them that damn much.”

[](http://imgur.com/Uuqbmhc)

Gamzee looked to each of his brothers for help, eyes practically begging, but they all only stared at him. Their faces emotionless as they waited for what he would decide. They suddenly felt very foreign to him. Their eyes bore into him, hemming him in from all sides, cornering him.

He couldn’t do it, he knows he couldn’t. He’s done some shit he didn’t find agreeable for them before, but this he could not do. 

So this would be it, there was the proof. They were going to leave him. Abandon him like everyone else in his life. Maybe they didn’t like him from the beginning. Was he just a nuisance all along? Maybe he would never find true friends, a true family, make up for the emptiness in his--

So this was it? The end?

“You know what I got to say to that?” Gamzee said quietly. “FUCK THAT!”

His gang looked at him apprehensively as his whispering rose without warning to a shout. Kaevus frowned and eyed Gamzee warily, then glanced at the other gang members. Their faces had suddenly turned to fear, and Kaevus turned back to look at them in confusion.

Gamzee slowly rose off the couch, and picked up the fallen club from the floor in silence. As he stood up, his expression had changed to a smoldering glare. Kaevus was the first to break the silence. “Oh, so you wanna fight, motherfucker?” He left the side of his startled gang brothers and stalked over to Gamzee.

As Gamzee stepped to the purplebloods, he suddenly became aware that he was growling like a feral barkbeast. His walking was like slow motion towards them. Every other troll except Kaevus started backing up.

They couldn’t have been aware of the cyclone of emotions running through Gamzee’s mind at the moment, clouding his rational. Aware of the pangs of fear being injected into their minds at that very moment. Aware of what he was capable of when on the verge of losing everything that meant anything to him. 

Kaevus stomped over to Gamzee, grabbing him roughly by the shirt. “Say something, dammit..” 

In that instant, Gamzee slammed his club right into Kaevus’ left temple. 

The memory started to end as the purplebood’s body crumpled to the floor, his head landing first into a half-empty cup of Faygo that splashed all over his Mohawk. The scene faded out to a cloud of red energy.

\--

When the memory finally vanished completely, Gamzee realized he was screaming. His horns were sparking. He was suddenly very angry, as if he were still in that room in that exact moment. He also realized that the other patients in the common area were staring at him, fear clear in their eyes. While certainly startling, his behavior would usually be met with just as much amusement then anything. Usually someone acting out was the entertainment for the day. But the others weren’t staring at him with amusement or surprise, they were staring wide eyed with fear. Gamzee’s entire view was blotted here and there in red energy. That’s when realization struck him. He was using chucklevoodoos, the purpleblood power used long ago in Alternia to subjugate the lower blood castes. The power that was supposedly very rare in purplebloods now. The power he wished he didn’t have.

A scrawny, ram-horned female troll pointed a shaky finger towards Gamzee.  
“He’s going to kill us! That troll will drag us all down into the Land of Pulse and Haze!”

She continued to gesture wildly at him with a book in her hand. Behind her flailing arms, he could see a nurse and two security staffer move towards him from across the room.

It would take a lot of trouble to restrain him this time as well. He took another trip to the padded room.

The following day, Gamzee’s doctor questioned Gamzee briefly about the effects of the medication. The doctor explained that the medication also functioned as an anticonvulsant, which could affect neurotransmitters in the brain. Apparently, Gamzee’s brain chemistry hadn’t reacted too well to the Donatrex, so the medication served mostly to depress him. His doctor changed his medication again.

\--

A large crowd of trolls are walking through a rocky area. The entire scene is under a red lens due to the crimson, setting Alternian sun streaking through the clouds. 

Sand gusts gently through the group of hooded troll refugees. They are a mix-mash of the entire hemospectrum, walking together in unity. The trolls look with admiration to a troll in front of them, who leads the way wearing a black hood. 

The troll group steadily slows down as the sand gusts get a bit stronger. One rustblood from the group steps forward, raising her hands in front of her as she beckons towards the leader. “Leader,” the rustblood calls out to the troll in front shrouded by gusts of sand. “May we take a small break? The winds are gusting a bit heavier, and they are slowing down the weakest of our group.”

The head of their group stops his feet, his cane coming to a rest in front of him. He turns around and walks back to his group, his form becoming clearer as he stepped through the sandy gusts. He removed the hood off of his head as he walked. Next to his group, it was revealed that he had two goat-like horns and a toothy, lopsided smile. There were three scars across his face.

“Of course, sis,” Gamzee says with a broad grin. “The Signless never leaves his motherfucking followers!”

Gamzee wakes up abruptly, sitting up as straight as a board. He looks around, and finds himself back at his small hospital room once again. Realizing that was a dream, he lies back down and stares at the ceiling. 

He doesn’t even remember how long it’s been since he’s gotten there, maybe four weeks? He’s already been put on five different medications since he arrived at the hospital. He’s starting to get disillusioned, cynical even. Has he just become one huge gineau pig for the doctors here? He worries if his body is adjusting well to all of these medications. On the bright side, he feels like something’s working a little bit. His recent medication is Zerapro. It seems to be working well. He sometimes tends to sleepwalk, mostly due to the long, lucid dreams. But rarely are they nightmares- they just tend to be really…strange. Did he really dream he was the Signless? What a trip, he thought.

For one thing, this planet is definitely not Alternia. This is Sarus, a planet trolls share with humans and carapaces. “And that sun outside ain’t nobody’s red,” he remarks a bit loudly, chuckling a bit to himself. 

“Ahem.”

Gamzee startles and looks over quickly at the source of that voice. He finds an indigoblooded troll in a bed next to him. He had nearly forgotten he was there. For most of his stay up until now, Gamzee had the room to himself. In the past two weeks, he was finally getting some luck with medications that worked better with less terrible side effects. He stopped getting into so many disturbances, so the ward finally moved in a roommate for him.

Honestly, he was glad for the company. He felt like he hasn’t really had a chance to interact with other patients much yet. The blueblood turns away, seeming apologetic for even getting Gamzee’s attention even though Gamzee was the one who woke _him up._

“My apologies, highblood.”

Gamzee eyebrows rose at that last word. _This must be some conservative brother,_ he thought. He didn’t feel any particular need to be given any deferment. Furthermore, it left a bad taste in his mouth considering why he got here in the first place.

“High…nevermind that. We’re all in here together. And, you ain’t gotta apologize. I’m the one who all up and woke you.” He says, ending with a bit more snarl than intended. When the blueblood goes sheepishly silent, he continues, more gently. “So what was I doing?”

“I-it’s quite alright…You..were just talking a bit during and after your sleep.”

“Sorry about that. This new shit they got me on makes me do that sometimes.”

“I-I see.” 

The room goes silent again, and Gamzee leans back into his recuperacoon after a while, careful not to slosh the slime around too much. He stares at the ceiling, trying to recall as much of the bizarre dream as much as possible. He then turns his eyes to the ‘coon sideways next to his own. The blueblood has gone very still in his ‘coon, his eyes closed. _Damn, did he fall back asleep already? He must have been exhausted, and here I am keeping him awake and such,_ Gamzee thought.

\--

The next day, Gamzee goes into the common area after another wordless therapy. There were a lot of people in the room. He decided that he would see about finally breaking his inside routine and go outside for a few minutes.

He really wants to go outside. He spots one of the ward staff- a short purpleblood security worker, and ambles on over to him. He’s not in one of the best of moods, but Gamzee manages to work up one of his trademark dopey grins as best as he can. It’s the first one he’ll wear in weeks. This place has got him all out of sorts and he hasn’t really been too well, so the smile comes out a bit crooked and forced. The staff stands with arms folded, but drops them to his side as the teen approaches. Gamzee notes his reaction and wonders. He’s had a few outbursts since he first came, so he knows he may already have a bit of reputation among staff.

“Hey there, can a brother go and get some fresh air? I’m feeling a little antsy right now”

The staffer turns to him. He looks over Gamzee, taking notice of his light blue clothes, then nods his head. 

“Alright, you’ve got fifteen minutes. I’ll have to accompany you because your clothes tell me you’re Section 1.”

Gamzee pauses. _Section what…oh, yeah._ At first catching him off guard, he realized that was one of the things the nurses had explained to him before. He doesn’t remember too much, but he knows different Sections means having certain limits or privileges. Usually a patient is given a higher Section and more privileges if they’re on good behavior. That last chucklevoodoo episode probably is the reason why he’s still on Section 1. He’d been expecting to be able to go outside without any accompaniment, but he realized that’s not how things work here. 

He follows the staffer outside. At the moment, there was only one other troll outside on the steps. Judging by the size of his horns, he must be a brownblood. Gamzee walked over to the steps and sat a little way from the troll, not wanting to bother him. He took a deep, refreshed sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee finally starts interacting with more of the other patients starting next chapter. Also, some of the troll terminology isn’t used. A lot of it is considered old fashioned, or some terms were just adopted from humans. More on this later…


	3. Meet the Bluebloods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee meets some new patients.

Once outside, Gamzee surveyed his surroundings. Behind him, off to the side, was another staffer. They were probably with the other troll. Over the steps was a narrow pathway, fenced at around ten meters from the doorway. Looks like prevention for escapees. Gamzee’s eyes roll over the yellow and green trees in the distance. A gentle wind blew through them, ruffling their leaves. It was a typical, nice spring day, but he’s been inside so much that the day seems even better. 

Gamzee almost forgot that he came to this hospital two months into the spring semester of his junior year. He closed his eyes, taking in the moment. _Never thought fresh air would feel like such a miracle,_ he thought. Some more time passes. He watches a nut creature scurry over the fence, cross over the bottommost step, and dart to the other side. As he turned his head to follow the creature, he couldn’t help but notice the large horns that came into his line of sight. They were the horns of the other troll sitting on the steps. _Definitely a brownblood by the size of those motherfuckers_ , Gamzee thought. The horns jutted sideways from the sides of the troll’s head, finally curving straight like a hoofbeast’s. They’re so big. He gets a sudden urge to touch them.

Gamzee reached slowly, carefully, for the horn and grasps the curving tip. He only gets to feel its velvety texture for a split second before the troll pulled away. Actually, saying pulling wouldn’t be accurate. The troll scuttled backwards like a cornered animal. His hand still hanging in midair, Gamzee’s mouth falls open slightly as he got a good look at the troll. The troll looked nothing like someone who would retreat like that. 

Gamzee skimmed the troll quickly, making sure not to stare too long at one place. He really couldn’t help it. _Damn, look at those bitchtits metal fucking legs_ , he thinks as he admires the troll’s robotics under the bland hospital shorts. _This guy has some real claws. Cool Mohawk. Motherfuck, this guy must be like a cyborg or some shit, there’s metal everywhere! Look at those piercings, there’s like fifty of those shits!_ The troll was short but stocky, his arms thick and husky. His upper body was similar; his shirt was filled out, whereas Gamzee looked like his shirt was hanging off a coatrack.

And befitting his appearance, the troll was glowering at Gamzee. His eyes were darting from Gamzee’s body to his face. Though with the way his eyebrows were knitting and relaxing, the troll looked like he was trying to decide between being offended or afraid.

[](http://imgur.com/ooiNdjH)

The two trolls spent a few seconds staring at each other until one of the staffers stood in Gamzee’s line of sight. “Hey, hey! No touching allowed! It’s back inside if you do that again.”

Gamzee nodded sheepishly and scooted back to the other side of the stair. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he mumbled. The brownblood said nothing. 

There was silence for another minute or so. Then, Gamzee decided he would finally do something he hadn’t done since he arrived- talk to someone who wasn’t hospital staff, of his own volition. He didn’t know why he felt like doing that now of all times. The troll across from him did look cool. And it would be nice talking to someone who looked closer to his own age. 

“So…what are you in here for, brother?”

The brownblood’s eyes narrowed to slits, but he said nothing.

“Ok, maybe that was stupid to ask,” Gamzee continues, undeterred. “I mean, we’re all here for something personal, so you don’t have to up and tell me if you ain’t feeling it. Looks like you’re nervous enough as it is.”

The brownblood gave a very slight, barely noticeable nod, but his expression did seem to soften a bit at that.

Gamzee looked at his observant staffer before inching a bit closer to the brownblood. However, the troll look terrified at that. Gamzee halted. He didn’t want him to scream out or anything. 

“Don’t worry bro, I ain't gonna hurt you or nothing. Hell, if you wanna keep the silent thing up and running, that’s fine with me. I’ll just sit back and enjoy the scene. These fucking clouds and shit are motherfucking miracles. Felt like I ain’t seen them in so long. There, I said my peace.”

However, Gamzee actually starts talking more. He can’t stop himself.

\---> Be the skittish brownblood. 

You have no idea why this huge guy with terrifying scars on his face is talking to you. Can’t he see how awesomely menacing your appearance is? You were always pretty sure your abundance of piercings project that you are threatening and not a cover up for incredibly low self-confidence. Maybe your sad attempt at disinterest to make him go away looks like curiosity. Ironically, people have always liked to come up to you and start talking for no reason. Usually your glare and piercings put a stop to that before the anxiety can set in.

However, that’s obviously not working for this guy. He’s now releasing a flood of words in you direction now. For some people, your disguise doesn’t work, and that’s usually who you’re most afraid of. Because possibly, just possibly, they might see you for the real you- a gutless, nervous, stuttering wreck. That you’re more harmless than a tinkerbull. You become increasingly nervous. In fact, you should tell this fidusucker to buzz of and go pail himself. However, that would be very rude of you to say. It would also be rude to interrupt him. Maybe you should try to have a conversation for once. He does seem kind of nice, and he’s not forcing you to talk to him. What if something you say makes him angry? What if hates you for that? What if you try to join in and offend him when he stops talking? What if you sound like you’re not interested? 

He’s starting to talk about having no television privileges. Yeah, you’d love some TV right about now, too. Especially Fiduspawn Master Sakura, you love watching that. In fact, you wish you had your playing cards with you. Your dad had to pack your stuff for you once you got taken here, though. He forgot them. You could play chess with some of the older trolls, but what if you annoy them because you don’t know how to play well?

Wow, you sure wish you could have said that to the droning purple. Now he’s on to something else and you’ve lost your chance at input. Bummer. Just like always. 

\-->Back to the talkative purpleblood

The talkative purpleblood really doesn’t know what his deal is. He keeps talking and talking, as if he’s trying to make up for all the weeks he’s been here without speaking to anyone, therapist or otherwise. Maybe that’s the problem, he’s been bottling it up. He suddenly becomes aware of this and tries to slow down.

“So yeah, I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here. How about you, cool cyborg bro?”

\-->Be the skittish brownblood again

Wow, he actually called you cool. You would be elated if it wasn’t for the fact that what he said was in fact a question, not a statement, and thus requires you to actually answer it. You shift your legs a bit, hands rubbing on your thighs to relax the building anxiety. You intend to answer, you really do. A few minutes of silence pass. You still intend to answer; you’re just looking for the right words to say. You must be pissing him off, so you look over at the purpleblood. Oddly enough, he doesn’t look annoyed at all, nor is he looking for an exit like most people normally do. He’s still there, his slightly glazed eyes staring at the trees in the distance. Then he peeks at you, and when your eyes meet, you look away again. 

He gives a small grin and looks back in the distance. He gives a shrugging motion of his shoulders. Maybe he’s bored. Or he gave up. About time. Wait, he’s smiling. Maybe he’s laughing at you. Are you a joke to him? No, maybe you’re upsetting him and he’s resisting the urge to bat you off the steps with one of his big claws. 

However, he cuts through your increasingly flustered thoughts, saying, “It’s cool man. You ain’t gotta get your talk on if you don’t want to. I don’t know what’s with me wanting to jab all of a sudden, either.”

What, someone actually sympathetic to your timidity? No, that can’t be right. You can’t believe your hear ducts. 

\-->Back to the talkative purpleblood again. 

Gamzee wondered if it was time to shut up now, but he didn’t really get an unfriendly vibe from the cyborg dude, maybe just an uneasy feeling. So, why not help a brother out? He was about to open his mouth again when there was the sound of a voice.

“…t-threw a lance…”

Gamzee’s eyes widened a bit after hearing the troll’s voice. It was a lot deeper than he expected. He didn’t actually expect him to say anything. Forgetting himself for a second, he scooted closer to the brownblood. The troll glanced at him nervously, but didn’t move away this time. The staffers looked on in annoyance. 

“You what? What’d you say? It was real low.”

“Um…I’m here b-because I threw a lance.”

“A lance?”

“Yeah. S-some guys jumped me, s-s-s…” The troll gets caught in his stutter for a moment. He clams up, a color of copper floating to his face. He seems ashamed, and scrunches his eyebrows together. However, Gamzee paid his stutter no mind. He’s much more interested in getting the brownblood to talk more. 

“Damn, motherfucker! You mean that shit they used to carry in them old armies? What are they called, cavalreaper or whatever? Anyway, that shit’s heavy!” Gamzee holds out his arms, spreading them as if approximating the size of said weapon. “Well damn. Motherfuckers must have went and really scared you if you up and did some shit like that.”

“Y-yeah…” Tavros looks down to the ground again, a sad frown appearing on his face. A few minutes went by and Gamzee panicked for a second. He didn’t want the troll to stop talking again. 

“H-hey,” he said in a chipper tone, holding up a gangly arm and patting the bicep with the other. “You gotta be pretty strong to do that! I know I probably couldn’t lift a lance with these skinny ass arms!”

He was joking, but that definitely had some truth to it. The brownblood may have been short, but the bulk of his upper body was almost twice the size of Gamzee’s. Gamzee was starting to eat on a regular schedule now that he was in the mental hospital, but he was still pretty skinny. Better than his previous diet that consisted of too much sopor pies and Faygo.

Now, that got a little smile out of the brownblood. He lowered his head, but he genuinely looked pleased. Gamzee scratched the back of his neck, chuckling as well. 

Then, Gamzee stared at his face unintentionally. He couldn’t help but think…that the brownblood looked rather nice when he smiled. The piercings glinting in the sun almost seemed to highlight points on his face. When the brown turned to him, he had to tear his eyes way abruptly. Hoping the troll didn’t catch him staring at him, Gamzee blurted out, “I’m uh, Gamzee. What do they call you here, motherfucker?” The troll’s eyes widened a bit, and then he looked down at his palms. He opened and closed his mouth. A few moments went by.

“Tavros,” the troll finally said. 

“Tavros? That’s one bitchtits ass name you got there, brother.” Gamzee smiled at the answer, partly in relief of breaking the silence.

“Haha, I wish,” he says. He still smiles at the compliment.

“You’re a miracle, you know that? You’re pretty damn chill, bro.”

“U-um, same to you. Thanks for talking to me. It was really n-nice. You’re the first friend I’ve made here.”

Friend. Gamzee was at a loss for words for a moment. He grinned, but then he turned at the sound of footsteps behind them. The other staffer had walked behind Tavros.

“That’s fifteen minutes. Time to head back.”

 _Aww fuck,_ Gamzee thought. _Forgot this shit was timed._ He looked up at Tavros, who had stood to leave. Tavros was looking at him a bit sullenly. 

“So, I’ll see you in the common room tomorrow, then?”

“A-actually, this is my last day here…”

“Oh. Shit.” It was all Gamzee could manage. 

“Y-yeah. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s cool bro. Not even your fault to be getting your apologize on.”

Tavros gave a small wave, and Gamzee returned it. The purple’s hand remained in the air for a while as he watched as Tavros shuffled away.

Gamzee waited out the rest of his time staring at the sky. He wondered if he’d ever see Tavros again. When the staffer finally came to retrieve him, he followed the adult troll wordlessly. 

\---

He was back in the common room, chewing on the rest of his second snack, a fruit cup. He was debating on whether actually going to one of his classes. Talking to someone actually made him feel a little bit better. However, he still wasn’t ready to spill any more of his life to anyone, though. _Yeah,_ he thought. _I hear some voices, but do I really need to be here? Voices weren’t nothing a little sopor couldn’t take care of._ He also didn’t care much for the schedule. Since he usually skipped his therapy classes, he was usually confined to his room, where he didn’t mind sitting around zoning out. But sometimes he would zone out too much and undergo one of what his doctors called a “depersonalization episode”. _That shit was kind of scary._ He wondered if maybe he should talk more about those to someone.

He looked around the common room at the other patients. There, he spotted the guy he recognized as his roommate. 

He was sitting on one of the low bean bag-like chairs in a corner by himself. Gamzee could see how he looked more clearly out in the open like this. He was wearing sunglasses and had long, sleek black hair. He looked relatively tall and had muscular arms. He had a bit of a commanding air about him. Gamzee sensed that it wasn’t forced like Tavros’ seemed to be. This was the real deal. 

Gamzee decided he would go talk to him. _Not gonna let today’s momentum go to waste,_ he figured. _I should get to know my roomie better, after all. It looks like he’ll be even harder to get talking, but hey, what the hell._

Gamzee slid onto a beanbag next to the indigoblood. And immediately, the blueblood straightens in his seat, his air of hostility lowered considerably. He looks directly at Gamzee.

 _Wait, shit_ , Gamzee thought. It was actually a bit startling for him to suddenly sit at attention like that. “Uh, hey there, roomie. How’s it hanging?” he asks quickly.

“Greetings, highblood. Just eyeing the lowblood swine in this room.”

 _Well damn, motherfucker._ If there was music playing, Gamzee could almost hear the record screeching to a stop. 

“You’re a motherfucking trip. And, you don’t have to call me highblood, you know.”

The blueblood looks incredibly taken aback.

“I ask that you refrain from such language. It really isn’t befitting of your noble blood. That’s something I’d expect from one of these swillbloods.

“Shit, bro, all these motherfuckers in this room are pretty much like us. They all look normal to me.”

“There is nothing normal about these trolls. Sure, they may look normal, but they actually aren’t, and that’s what makes this place so positively vexing.” The bluebood lips tighten. “And furthermore, I’m here with them.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Everyone’s got fucking problems, you know?”

“Nonsense. Even if that were true, the problems of the different bloods are nothing alike. I believe you are only in here for frustration.”

“Frustration?”

“Yes. I believe the few highbloods I see in here are only here out of the fact that they can no longer legally subjugate the lower castes.”

It was Gamzee’s turn to be taken aback. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could tell him the reason he was in here was because he tried to stop something similar from happening. Nevertheless, he decided he wanted to make another friend and kept that to himself for now. 

“Well, I’m here for something motherfucking else. That shit’s all in the past. Stop yammering about that blood shit and just set back and relax.”

“You seem lax when it comes to the rules of society. You are… positively infuriating. But, I suppose an order’s an order.”

“An order? Er…Bro, like I said, we all have motherfucking problems. What are you in here for, anyway?”

When Equius eyes him without answering, Gamzee states rather boldly, “Well, I’m in here for because I hear voices and have these episodes where I literally zone out of my body.” When he stopped to think about what he said, he couldn’t believe how easily he told a perfect stranger that. _Maybe that’s just how this place makes you feel,_ he thought. _Everyone’s here for a reason._

“OCD.” Equius answers tersely. “I felt like things had been getting out of my control as of late and couldn't control myself, which resulted in my coming here. That is all.”

Silence again. Gamzee rubbed his chin, hoping that it would somehow make the silence less awkward.

“Say, I never got your name. I’m Gamzee.”

“Equius.”

Silence again. _Damn, this motherfucker’s hard to get going_ , Gamzee thought. Oh well. Gamzee sunk into the beanbag chair. Every now and then, he would ask Equius a question. He’d only continue to get very terse replies. In a way, it wasn’t too unpleasant. It was a little amusing the way their conversations would go. Equius also seemed more annoyed with his language rather than his presence. Gamzee passed the small break time this way until it was time for his next therapy classes.

\----

Gamzee still didn’t say too much for his following classes. But, he did catch himself at least paying attention more, especially during the group therapy session. But one on one was still pretty hard. It was still hard trying to talk about problems. One reason he would avoid talking about them because he’d feel himself going into that fishbowl state again. Or he’d feel himself starting to get really angry and would stop talking before things elevated further. He didn’t like feeling angry, but maybe he should talk a little.

\----

“Sometimes I just really don't feel like saying shit. Or doing shit. Then I get sucked into my thoughts, literally, like my spirit comes outta my body like a ghost. I get scared that I’ll up and become a ghost or something. But if I do talk, I feel like my spirit can get sucked away then, too! It just motherfucking happens.”

The therapist takes notes on what he says. She finally looks up and meets his eyes.

“Thank you for speaking more in depth about this problem. We’re here to help you with that. I must say, Mr. Makara. This is the first time you’ve spoken more than single word answers.”

“Sorry wardsis, I don’t mean to waste your time or nothing before. Maybe I'm just real sleepy. Sometimes I can't sleep at night and keep my roommate up and such. The voices come back at night a lot. The dumbed down sopor helps a bit, but it can still take a while to fall asleep.”

“Well, Gamzee, that may be it. You also seem to be having symptoms of asociality and avolition. These mean a lack of interest in social interaction and activities respectively.”

“Oh, ok.” 

“I've been told that you tend to draw your Capricorn symbol over and over in the art therapy class. Why is that? Do you know why?”

“I don’t know myself, I just feel like I need to.”

He had no clue why he did that. He does know that he always draws his sign after a certain dream he never seems to remember.

\-----

You are Gamzee Makara, and you find yourself in a town. It's oddly familiar, but you don’t remember exactly how. It seems to be a deserted town. You look around, but you don't see any other trolls around. You walk along the road, searching for someone, anyone. It's silent. Not even the silence with cars driving on a highway in the distance, just silence. Unnerving silence. You stop by a cross section and peer around a corner. There are still no other people, just another street of buildings. 

You go up what appears to be a coffee shop judging by the façade with a drawing of a coffee cup and swirls. You look up to the pitch black sky for a moment, and then decide to try and go inside somewhere. However, when you turn back to the coffee shop, you realize that you cannot open the door. Or rather, it can't be opened. You were sure there was a handle there, but it's actually just a painting of a handle now. You decided to try another building and it’s the same thing, the handles are just painted on. Even the windows are painted on. You walk around the back of a building, climbing on top of what may be a generator. Here is when you take a closer look at the buildings, and you notice they all look like wooden blocks with designs painted on them. And that's when you realize you are growing in size. Or is the town getting smaller? The town gets smaller and smaller until the features on the buildings become pretty indistinct. You are now huge, lording over the town. You also realize another change. You’re no longer 17 year old Gamzee, you have become... A pupa? You are now Gamzee Makara, a pupa. You are lording over a town of blocks. The blocks look stranger by the second, like they were from an overexposed photograph.

Well, ain't this a trip. You shrug and start using your tiny claws to start grasping the town blocks. You remember them now. These were the blocks you used to play with when you were a wriggler. Well, the eerie pitch black silence creeps you out, but hey, oh well. Life gives you lemons and you make fucking lemonade out of it, right? Hell no you don't, you don't know what's in that shit. 

You suddenly feel a presence behind you. Looming over you. You set the blocks down and turn around slowly to see a huge troll. You startle and nearly destroy your town you made as your feet kick out. Your mouth gapes open. A shriek may have come out, but if it did, it was in audible. There is no sound. The troll is actually standing a few feet away. Why did he feel so close? He has that much of an aura? The troll’s hair forms a sort of unruly mane around his head. His horns are like a goat, though considerably longer and more undulating than yours... They are also very thick with many rings of age. He wears an unfamiliar costume. There seems to be a rib cage design on his torso and purple bands on his forearms. His face paint is also that of a skull. A very jagged skull. It is terrifying. He is watching you, his face emotionless. His eyes are unwavering. 

[](http://imgur.com/KEuCFhU)

You are terrified of him. Even so, you feel another emotion well inside of you-longing. 

You look elsewhere to distract yourself from those scary, purple eyes. The most distinct feature you can make out is his sign on his chest, which glows practically neon in the darkness. It is the same sign as yours... 

The huge troll turns around and starts heading for the room door. You get up and try to follow, but your wriggler legs won't let you move that fast. Hurry, he’s leaving—

You try to follow, but the faster you try to go, the farther away he gets. You finally trip and fall on your unwieldy legs.

\---

Gamzee startles awake. He panics as he looks around. This was not his room. Where the hell was he? He appeared to be in some dimly lit corridor, on top of a broad metal box. He looked around and saw an open vent above him. Then he realized what happened. He must have been having a lucid dream again. Sometimes when he was younger, he would climb through the vents of his house or explore the corridors no one seemed to traverse for years. Damn I'm gonna be in trouble for this shit, he thought. 

As he paused to stand and dust off himself next to the metal box, he tried to recall what the dream was. He tried to remember as much as he could, but once again, he didn’t really remember too much. He cursed himself. He should have tried to remember when he first woke out of it. He could only remember one thing, the same things as usual. He lifted up a claw and drew his Capricorn sign on the crumbling wall with one nail. Plaster bits fell to the floor as he completed this task. 

The voices were in the background, currently as dull whispers. In the silent hallway, they sounded loudly. He found himself stuck in place, like a computer stuck in a code loop.

The walls were off-white, cracked here and there with disuse and no maintenance. Only dim, fluorescent lighting lit the halls sparingly. There was no one around. He felt like he was feeling déjà Vu put couldn't exactly put his finger on it. It was kind of spooky. 

The regular part of the hospital wasn’t too pristine itself, but the condition of this hallway was nothing short of dilapidated. It could really use another paint job. It didn't bother him much, though. Some parts of his house were falling apart as well, cracked walls to boot. 

As he finished the loop of the first Capricorn sign, he began another, then another. He did this for a while, and then stopped at a noise. He looked down the hallway, but saw nothing. Maybe it was a rat. Whatever it was, it woke him from his trance. He wandered a few of the ruined halls, but then decided he should probably find his way back. He couldn’t make out what was inside the rooms with their dark windows, but he decided not to open any doors.

There was another noise. He looked up, and saw an indistinct figure at the end of the hallway. He quickly hid behind a corner. Peeking over the side of the wall, the figure was still there. Then they walked off slowly, dragging their feet. Okay…, he thought. Well, at least that person didn’t seem like hospital staff. 

He didn't know if that was a good thing or not. _Maybe it’s time I get the hell on. I’m probably in a bunch of trouble already,_ he thought. 

He found the opened vent that he entered from, above the broad metal box. He then noticed a window next to the box, and looked out of it. Looks like it had started raining. It was dark outside. The window view was facing a parking lot. He started to wonder which side of the hospital was he exactly on, when he noticed a shadowy figure in the parking lot. 

The figure had a black coat and pants, and in place of a head was a …white ball?

 _What is that?_ Gamzee felt apprehensive at first, but that soon glazed over into indifference. Probably just one of those motherfuckers everyone else claims they can’t see. He stood on top of the generator and crawled into the open vent. Carefully snapping it back in place as he as he left, he crawled through. 

As he crawled through, he could see other rooms below him occasionally. In all of the rooms were of patients sleeping. He made sure to go through as quietly as possible. Vents were mostly soundproof, but it would be easy to hear someone in the dead silence of the night. He must have passed six or seven rooms. He was on the lookout for a room with an empty bed that would signal his. He didn’t know if he left the vent cover hanging whenever he went up the first vent, so he had to pause to investigate every room. He stopped to check out a room when he froze in panic. He was right over a troll girl’s recuperacoon. 

And she was awake, looking right at him.

She was laying back in the slime, her face angled towards him. She had asymmetrical horns, one shaped like a wrench. Her eyes went wide and she gasped, sinking below the ‘coon slime to further submerge her body. Feeling the purple go to his face, he unglued himself from the view and crawled along frantically. _Shit, shit, shit!_ he thought. He half expected to hear a scream as he scrambled away, but he never heard one. His hear was thundering in his chest.

Three vents later, he saw an empty bed and a vent that was left open. This should be it. Sticking his head through the vent, he angled himself to confirm his roommate. Yep, that was him. He was sleeping with arms crossed, his cracked glasses on the nightstand next to his ‘coon. Gamzee dropped down the vent, easing down feet-first. He steadied himself on the recuperacoon’s tub sides. Miraculously, he didn’t slip, but he did land in the slime a bit clumsily, sloshing the slime audibly. He jerked his head towards his roommate. The sound didn’t seem to have awakened him. He took a sigh of relief. He also noticed that there were no staffers looking for him. He didn’t hear anyone running about in the halls or anything. His roommate looked like he hadn’t been disturbed. That was strange. Maybe I wasn’t really gone that long? He thought. Oh well, who knows, he said, sinking into the slime.

“What were you doing?”

“Motherfuck!”

Gamzee sat straight up in the slime and turned his body in the direction of the voice. His roommate was very much awake, looking and frowning in his direction. 

“Uh…I had a bit of a dream. “ He racked his brain for the specific word that psychiatrist had said. “A ‘lucid’ dream.”

“So that was your idea of sleepwalking? Hauling yourself through a vent?”

“Y-yeah, that. Maybe it comes all second nature even when I’m sleeping. I’ve uh, always liked to explore vents and shit like that when I was a pupa.”

Equius didn’t look convinced.

“My house had a lot of them. My place had a lot of ventilation to make the hive cold. The vents leading from the indoor pool on the first floor were really cold.”

“I’d expect a pupa to fit in a vent, but you’re so tall. You are quite skinny, however.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say I have a lot of practice moving my body through tight spaces. I haven’t been in a vent in a while, but it wasn’t too hard to navigate.”

Equius seemed to be thinking. “That doesn’t sound very safe.”

“Hey, um… Did any of the staffers come looking for me?”

“No, though I’ve noticed sometimes they neglect their duties of checking on patients every fifteen minutes around this time. It’s probably been about twenty minutes or so since I first saw you climbing through that vent. If you say you were dreaming, then I guess telling you to do that more quietly won’t help.”

“Sorry I woke you up again.”

“You are so infuriating. Climbing around like some feral oliveblood.”

[](http://imgur.com/ybIOFAT)

“Sorry…,” Gamzee said again. His words trailed off as he realized he left the vent open. “Shit.” He stood up once again on the ‘coon tub sides, snapping it into place with an almost practiced accuracy. This time, he lowered himself back into the slime a bit more elegantly. Equius regarded him with a look of both disdain and slight appraisal. 

“Hmph. You definitely look like you’ve done this before. Are you sure you didn’t do anything else while you were gone?”

“I told you, bro. I was just dreaming. I woke up on what I think was the other side of the hospital, and I brought my ass back.”

“Maybe I should tell one of the staffers in order to reduce multiple attempts. That foolishness in the vents could be a liability for this hospital.”

“What?” Gamzee said, turning back to Equius in alarm. “Please don’t tell anyone. These motherfuckers are finally starting to come off me now. I didn’t cause no trouble.”

“You can’t just go around blatantly breaking rules in such a manner.”

“Aw, c’mon!” 

Equius faces Gamzee. His face is expressionless. “Humor me then, highblood,” he says. “If you are successful, I won’t tell.”

“Humor you?”

“Yes. Simply command me to not tell on you. In a more demeaning manner.” Equius licks his lips before adding. “Really harshly.”

Gamzee looked puzzled. “Um. Okay. I don’t think I’ll do that too good,” he mumbled.

“Just do it. Or else.”

“Okay. Um,” said Gamzee as he put a claw to his chin. “Turn around in your bed… because I told you to.”

“Mm. A little more.”

“You better get to counting sheep before I release the wicked Messiah down on your ass.”

“Oh yes. That’s it.”

“And don’t mention it to no staffer or you kicking the motherfucking shit is the last thing I’ll ever do part of.”

“Yes. Excellent. Oh dear. I should have prepared an extra towel in case. Fiddlesticks.” Equius leans forward in his recuperacoon and jerks the sheet off of his daybed. 

Gamzee watches as Equius wipes his head with the sheet. He seems to raise his arm to put the sheet back when he puts it to his face gain. He repeats this two more times.

“Thank you for indulging me. Perhaps I have been out of conduct. I am your inferior after all.”

“You’re pretty out there, man. So, what are you in here for again?” Gamzee asks when Equius finally replaces the sheet.

Equius frowns. “I told you, OCD. Don’t you remember anything?”

“Well, this stuff they got me on makes it hard to. Though, I have a hard motherfucking time remembering shit in general. In either case, you just gotta with the flow, you know?”

The blueblood sighs. “How can you live like that?” he asked. “That makes me want to wring your neck.”

“Live like what?”

“So carefree, so ignorant, with such utter disregard for social etiquette and rules.”

“I mean…I dunno. Sometimes you just gotta ignore all of that extra bullshit, you know? Life doesn’t always give you lemons, so you can’t always make lemonade. You see the miracles when you can.”

Equius seems to think for a moment, his arms crossed in his ‘coon. Then he frowns again. He laid in the slime for a long while. Gamzee started to wonder if he fell asleep when suddenly his voice continued.

“Absolute drivel."

“To each their own, I guess.”

“No. The rules of society must be followed. Acting in a manner such as yours will only lead to chaos. I’m here in this hellhole-excuse me- now because I felt like my world was falling apart when I started to disobey the rules.”

“How did you get in here for, anyway? Nurses keep telling me I’m involuntarily admitted or whatever, but what about you? You came here on your own?”

“Not exactly. I broke things.”

“You broke things?”

“Yes. I’m here for breaking all of the archery club’s bows. And for breaking the rest of their meeting room as well.”

“Oh. Yeah, it does sound like you had a motherfucking break down and flipped the fuck out.”

“Your language is atrocious. But being your inferior, I have no right to complain. Yes, I did have one of these ‘breakdowns’. I do not wish to speak more on it. I’m already losing sleep from all of this.”

“Fine with me, brother. G’night.”

Equius grunts and promptly turned his back to Gamzee in the recuperacoon. Gamzee shrugged, turning to stare at the vent. Suddenly remembering the girl, he stayed up for a while longer to make sure no one came looking for him. He nearly had a heart attack when the door to the room opened suddenly a minute later, and he closed his eyes quickly in order to pretend he was asleep. It was probably a staffer. He heard footsteps in the direction towards Equius, then some in his direction. Even so, the staffer didn’t come any closer and left immediately. 

He sighed in relief as the staffer left. That seemed like one of their routine checks. Gamzee finally felt like he could relax, and tried to focus on sleeping for real. He felt like the half-baked sopor slime helped the voices for now. On the other hand, the stressful vent situation probably just made him to focus on something else. He eventually fell asleep. Thankfully, there were no more lucid dreams that night.

\---

The next morning, Gamzee got his clothes together to put on after a shower. As Gamzee was heading out of the room, he noticed Equius doing the same. He offered a greeting, but Equius didn’t seem to pay him any attention. The indigoblood seemed to follow Gamzee at first, but then he fell behind. Gamzee saw that Equius was staring at the floor, his expression of deep concentration as he walks. 

“What are you doing?” Gamzee asked.

“Avoiding the cracks,” Equius responds.

Gamzee looked down and saw that Equius was doing just that, walking while avoiding the dividing cracks in the floor tiles. Gamzee wonders if he should wait for him, but eventually decides to just go on ahead and meet later.

He followed the usual morning routine. First, he wiped the sopor slime off his body with a towel. Then, a staffer escorted him to go wash up. The ablution traps in this hospital were pretty constrictive. In the ablution stall, he has to press a button, where lukewarm water spouts out for about thirty seconds before he has to press it again. Next, he went to the nurse’s station, where he got his weight, blood pressure, and temperature taken, and given his morning dose of Zerapro. The nurses had to cajole Equius into moving from the room. Gamzee noted that unlike the night before, he looked pretty anxious today. 

Gamzee headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. It was here where Gamzee first realized how big this hospital was. Everyone ate together at the same time, though patients had the option of just eating in their rooms, too. He shuffled over to the food servers, pointed at an item on a menu, and was given a food tray with a breakfast consisting of milk, pancakes, eggs, bacon, an orange, and apple juice. The tray also had a yellow slip with his name and other info on it. He paused as he was about to take a seat. He really liked apple juice, so he leaned behind the serving counter and grabbed a juice off another tray. The server was handing someone else their tray and didn’t notice. There was another table to get a plastic spork and napkins.

He sat down at a table and ate quietly. After a few minutes, Equius sat at a table next to him. “Hey bro, I don’t mind if you sit over here for a spell,” Gamzee said to him. Equius nodded and sat next to him. “Greetings, highblood. My apologies for my inattentive behavior earlier,” he said. Equius’ tray didn’t have bacon and eggs on it.

Gamzee waved him off and started drinking his milk. He quietly watched the other patients when another tray was plopped down next to his. Gamzee looked up to see who it was. 

“Helloooooooo!”

Gamzee nearly choked on his milk.

[](http://imgur.com/f5V9WHb)

It was the girl that he accidently saw last night. 

As he sputters milk everywhere, Equius eyes him in slight repugnance. “You shouldn’t waste your milk in such a manner.”

The girl leaned in with a knowing smile, her messy hair swaying. 

“Soooooooo. You gonna tell me what you were doing in that vent last night eyeing a pretty girl?”

“Uh.” Gamzee put the milk down, his mouth gaping open. He couldn’t really think of an elaborate lie in the moment, so he just told the truth. “Coming off a hard dream?”

“Bullshit! Tell the truth! What are you, some peeping tom?”

“M-motherfuck no! I didn’t mean to see you like that. I was just on the lookout for my room!”

“I wonder. It’s almost like you’re trying to dethrone me. Dethrone!”

“Uh, dethrone what?”

“Me! From being the number one shit-starter in this place! That title belongs to me! I’m a pretty big deal here. But you know, you’ve got a reputation here, too.”

“I do? For what?”

“That night you woke everyone up on our section running down the hall in nothing but your underwear for starters.”

“Hey, I just had a fucking bad reaction to some meds. I swear I was made like a damn gineau pig when I first got here,” he grumbled.

“Hmph. I can understand that. People get sent here to become zombies. You did time in the quiet room, right? They shoot you up and make you a zombie in there.”

“Yeah, and I don’t plan on being back up in that bitch. I’m telling ya’, I don’t just do shit like that for the hell of it.”

“Aw, well that’s boring. There’s gotta be more to you.”

Gamzee barely knew what to make of this forward girl. He tried to dispel some of his nervousness by downing one of his juices.

“Wait,” she asks. “Why do you have two juices?”

“I like this shit, so I grabbed another one.”

“You just took it? Without one of those grumpy, uptight lunch ladies noticing? They always catch me when I try to take extra stuff! Always meddling!”

“I mean, I wanted it and it was right there, so…”

She looked incredulous for a second, and then she burst out laughing.

“Haha, you’re not supposed to just take it!”

“Oh. Really?”

“Wow, I steal things on purpose, but you steal without even noticing!”

She flashes some cigarettes she has hiding under her shirt, tucked into her shorts. 

“But look here. I’m still the number one. I took these babies right off of a nurse cart. These losers here are no match for me! And I’ve been to the quiet room twice already, so I’m still on top! But you’re interesting, I’ll give you that. You’re big, but you can get around so easily. You’re unexpectedly sneaky. I definitely didn’t expect that from a guy I’ve never seen do anything but zone out!”

“I agree,” Equius chimed in, sipping his milk. “Despite being so loathsome and scatterbrained, he seemed pretty adept at using the vent. It was quite unexpected, impressive even.”

“H-hey, speaking of which, y-you’re not gonna tell it, are you? You haven’t already, right?”

“Nope! Not yet! Geez, stop stuttering like someone I know.”

“Yet?”

“Don’t worry. You’ve made things a bit interesting around here, so I’ll let you off the hook. For now.”

“Damn, you gonna stay holding that over my head, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Motherfuck, sis, you’re kinda scary.”

“Aw, that’s so cute!”

“Say, what’s your name anyway, sis? I’m Gamzee.”

“Vriska. You should have heard of me. Haven’t you?”

“Nah, I ain’t really been talking to anyone much to be hearing about you.”

“What? How is that even possible, there’s not even that much to do here outside of the classes! Stop zoning out so much!”

“Actually, indulging oneself in idle gossip is unbecoming and suited for only pedantic wrigglers,” Equius said.

“No imput from the peanut gallery! Who’s the prude next to you.”

“That’s Equius.”

“Well, I’ll see you and that gruff, buff dude later! I’m going to go eat in my room.”

“Later.”

Gamzee watches her take her tray and walk out of the cafeteria. _The hell have I gotten myself into?_ he wondered.

\-----

 

“Huh? Both of you guys are in my motherfucking art therapy class group, too?” Gamzee asked in astonishment. He was going into the art room with other trolls when he spotted Vriska and Equius.

“Well, duh! You were just always spaced out in a corner by yourself, and I’ve never talked to Equius until today!”

The three trolls walked into the big art room. They took their seats at a long table towards the back and a troll male began speaking.

“Morning, folks! I am Mr. Oamund and I’ll be your instructor today. This is my assistant, Jingus. You folks must have been notified about the change of location. There was a bit of a leak in one of the main therapy rooms. It’ll be taken care of shortly, but that’s why this group is doing art therapy now instead of after lunch. Now folks, please refrain from drawing until I give you your prompts. Everyone will follow a prompt, to complete with a medium of your choice.”

Mr. Oamund and Jingus and began passing out an index card prompt to every patient. After Jingus placed a card in front of the tree trolls, Vriska huffed.

“Ugh, this place is so bootleg! Who wants to draw this early in the morning, anyway?” Vriska complained.

She looked around at all of the other patients. “I swear, art therapy’s only for entertaining bored patients. Gives them something to do for an hour before they go sit and be bored somewhere else.” She grabbed a graphite pencil and wrote “bluh” on her blank sheet and outlined it in big red circles, blatantly disregarding what the staffer just said.

“Don’t be so boorish. Mind you, art therapy is an actual discipline requiring certification. I wholeheartedly approve of invigorating patients through the beauty of art. Also, the teacher explicitly said not to begin yet.” 

“Oh, whatever! To hell with rules! You can break a rule every now and then. Here, you started drawing, too!”

“You will stop—hey, what are you doing? Don’t draw on my paper!” Equius couldn’t act in time as Vriska grabbed his sheet and started penciling in a crudely drawn, badly-proportioned musclebeast. 

“What insolent—you should learn to obey your superiors.”

“Bah, what superiors? I’m the superior one! Hahaha!”

Gamzee chuckled at Vriska’s ‘art’. These guys were fun. He hadn’t really interacted with others like this since he was with his gang. He picked up one of the blunt graphite pencils. Instead of jumping into the conversation, he drew a small “:o)” in the corner. It was the clown face he often used when messaging on his husktop. Gamzee stared at the clown face, and then his eyes slowly widened as realization started to dawn on him.

He looked at the end of their table, where another troll was reading labels on some paint. He eyed certain colors- the dark grey and white paint tubs. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t put on his face paint since he got to this place. He never really bothered before, but today he felt a bit different. Those weren’t face paint tubes, but they might work…

Gamzee walked over and took the two paint tubs and walked back over to Vriska and Equius. The troll reading the labels didn’t even seem to notice. As Gamzee sat down with the paint, his friends looked at him questioningly. Gamzee didn’t have a mirror, but he did the best he could. He always put his makeup on the same way anyway. He started with white, and started dipping his fingers into a tub. Equius looked at him appreciatively. Vriska looked less bored. She watched him, a hand propping up her head.

“Oh, so you’re a clown,” she said.

“Yep. I’m down with the Mirthful Messiahs.” Gamzee replied, dabbing a dark grey circle over his eyes.

“Freaky.”

“Don’t be rude,” Equius admonished. “Some highbloods still carry the Subjugglator traditions at heart.”

“The only thing Gamzee can subjugglate is a pancake,” Vriska retorted.

Gamzee grinned as he applied more paint. He was finishing the grey paint on his mouth area when Jingus walked over.

“Well, you three seem to be having a lot of fun over there. Hey! You guys haven’t followed the prompts yet?”

The staffer frowned when he saw what was on their sheets. Despite that, his face lit up as if he’d gotten a new idea. He gave them three new sheets of paper and placed a small index card in front of them. It had a drawing prompt printed on it.

“Try this test since you guys don’t seem too… interested in the other one. I don’t get too many chances to try this one. It’s called, “Draw a Member of the Traditional Base Classes. Its terminology is a bit… outdated, but I’d like to see how the test will work out for you guys.”


End file.
